


Takes the Cheese

by Venivincere



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-22
Updated: 2018-12-22
Packaged: 2019-09-24 15:04:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17102855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Venivincere/pseuds/Venivincere
Summary: Arthur has a rat problem. Merlin procures a solution.





	Takes the Cheese

**Author's Note:**

  * For [isisanubis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/isisanubis/gifts).



> Merry Christmas, Isisanubis. <3 <3 <3

Arthur Pendragon, King of Camelot, wakes to an unholy shriek for the second time this week. It being Tuesday, Arthur assumes the rest of the week will continue apace if he doesn't nip it in the bud right away. He opens one eye and says, "Merlin. For the love of everything holy, do whatever you must to ensure I never wake that way again. Are we perfectly, unerringly clear?"

There's a loud gulping sound from somewhere near his wardrobe. "Yes, Sire. Sorry, Arthur."

"Rats again?" Arthur sighs.

"Yes, sire. I'll have the joiner come repair the hole in your wardrobe. Again."

"I'm beginning to think he's repairing it with giant slabs of cheese," says Arthur, frowning out his one open eye.

"I'll request a hard aged cheddar this time, Sire" says Merlin, cackling and scooting around the corner just in time to avoid Arthur's candle snuffer.

::----::

"Merlin," says Arthur, a look of horror on his face, when he returns from the training grounds that afternoon. "What on earth is this feline doing in my chambers?"

"Catching rats, Sire. She killed one that got into your favorite tunic. The green silk, with the gold piping."

Arthur, suddenly contrite and stupidly anxious asks, "Any damage?"

"None. Morgana got it before it could chew through even one precious thread!" Merlin picks up a muscular black and white cat and snuggles it, speaking right into the top of her head. "Didn't you, Muggums? Yes you did! What a good little kitty you are! Mmmmhmmm!"

"Morgana?!" Arthur blanches.

Merlin wings Arthur a narrow-eyed glance, and aggressively takes up petting the cat's ears flat to her head. "Your. New. Cat. If you don't like that name, name her something else. Your Majesty."

But Merlin's pursing his lips, and petting and petting and petting the cat, and Arthur's beginning to wonder if Merlin will need bandages soon. So he says, taking a last look at the supreme annoyance gracing Morgana's furry face, "It fits. Look at those ears. She's clearly a mouser."

Merlin detaches his face from the cat's head and grins. "She is! I went to all the pubs in the lower town and procured you the best one. So please do pay the bill from the Cat and Whistle that I signed for."

"Oh, I like that pub!" says Arthur. 

"So do I, Sire. The bill will include the cost of a new sign--"

At that moment, Morgana leaps straight up and launches herself off the back of Merlin's head. "Ow!"

"A new sign! Whyever for? What did you do now, Merlin?" says Arthur, casting about in his chest of drawers for a handkerchief and pressing it to the bloody scratch on Merlin's head.

"--And also the cost of a dog, to replace the cat."

"...Oh," says Arthur. He frowns. "My subjects are swindlers!"

There's a loud hissing and scramble in the corner. Arthur and Merlin turn to stare and Morgana appears, mouth full of a bloody, sleek supper.

"Maybe," says Merlin, "but you can't argue with results."

::----::

Arthur wakes up after a whole week of blissfully quiet awakenings to a perfectly warm head, and that is just not natural. He twists his head around to discover Morgana relentlessly, grumpily, claiming the rest of The Royal Pillow. He shivers, thinking of her namesake, as Merlin bumps into his chambers with his breakfast tray. "Morgana -- my Morgana -- she couldn't turn into a cat, could she?"

Merlin snorts. "Of course not!" He takes in Arthur and the bed and says, "Awww, Sire! You're bonding!"

Merlin is carrying Arthur's breakfast tray, and there is a pumpkin tart on it. Arthur can smell it, he's sure, and that is why Merlin isn't wearing the tray.

"Nonsense. She acts as though _she's_ the one ruling the roost!" Arthur exclaims, shooing her off his pillow and sitting up against the headboard.

"Hmmm. I'd say that's accurate, Sire," says Merlin, setting Arthur's breakfast on his lap and barely suppressing a grin. Arthur can tell it's a grin because Merlin's dimple is twitching. "But it's only the roost. And I'm fairly certain it's you who rules the rest."

Arthur preens. The sun is shining, the courtyard smells like burning leaves, and it's a good day for a hunt with his men in the forest and grounds around the castle. Merlin agrees.

Arthur glares at Morgana bathing herself at the foot of the bed, a perfect, pretty princess in a sunbeam, and it's all lies. "All the same, she's not coming on the hunt."

Merlin lays out Arthur's hunting leathers and cackles.


End file.
